


Can't Buy Me Love

by fluidtime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, M/M, Misunderstandings, Prostitution, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 11:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2506460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluidtime/pseuds/fluidtime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the SPN Kink Meme. (Full prompt inside.)</p><p>Castiel is a workaholic virgin so his brother, Balthazar, hires a hooker (Dean) for Castiel's birthday, but doesn't tell him. Dean approaches Castiel at the party who is a little cautious because he doesn't get much attention from anybody, but he's really happy that someone seems to be genuinely attracted to him. He doesn't find out Dean's a prostitute until after.</p><p>Cas, upset and humiliated that the only reason someone would want him is because they were paid, resolves to never sleep with anyone again, however, there's a tall, sensitive man who has just started working at Cas' company who is determined to be friends with Cas and even seems to be flirting with him a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Help

**Author's Note:**

> [Full Prompt from the SPN Kink Meme:](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/83218.html?thread=30916370)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Castiel is a workaholic 30-something virgin. His brother Gabriel/Balthazar/whoever hires a hooker (Dean) for Cas's birthday but doesn't tell Cas about it.
> 
> Dean approaches Castiel at the party. Cas is a little cautious because he doesn't get much attention from anybody, they're normally put off by his lack of social skills but then he's really happy that someone seems to be genuinely attracted to him. He only finds out afterwards that Dean was paid to sleep with him.
> 
> Cas is really upset and humiliated that the only reason someone would want him is because they were paid to be with him. He resolves to never sleep with anyone again because of the whole experience, however, there's a tall, sensitive man who has just started working at Cas's company who is determined to be friends with Cas and even seems to be flirting with him a bit.
> 
> Cas is not open to Sam's friendship advances/flirting and thinks Sam is making fun of him by flirting with the awkward social outcast and becomes even more convinced of this when he meets Sam's brother, Dean.
> 
> Dean has to set Cas straight on his misunderstandings and tell him that Sam actually is interested in him. Cas has to get over his hangups and accept that someone is actually interested in him as a person.

They met at a small diner, not too far away from Balthazar’s house. It was busy enough that nobody would pay them any mind, but not overwhelming in the least. Plus, they served great burgers and even better pie. He remembered that Dean had an affinity for the dessert and figured he would appreciate the gesture.

 

A portly waitress dropped off their food and Balthazar gave her a polite nod before turning back to Dean.

 

“He’s a little… shy.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“It means you might have to woo him a bit. It _is_ his birthday after all.”

 

“I think I can manage that.” Dean flashed him a smile, which he returned, and they proceeded to dig into their food, continuing to discuss the details of the upcoming night.

 

It was more review than anything else. Balthazar had been talking with the prostitute for a little over a week about purchasing his services on behalf of his brother for a night. It was Castiel’s thirtieth birthday and the man was so socially inept, he hadn’t even gotten laid yet. Balthazar sought to remedy this, but figured what he really needed was someone who wouldn’t be deterred by his brother’s brash nature. Someone who was, incidentally, getting paid to put up with it.

 

Dean was a friend, of a friend, of a friend that Balthazar trusted to be kind and gentle, and also clean -- perfect for little Cassie. Since he was the one organizing Castiel’s party, it would be easy to sneak Dean in with the other guests. He wouldn’t ever have to know that the man was hired to be there.

 

Hopefully, by the end of the night, everyone will have had their bit of fun and it will have turned out to be a birthday to remember.

 

“Just don’t mention your job to him. It might offend his delicate sensibilities.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “He’s the one having sex with me.”

 

“Yes I know, but Castiel is,” he paused and tilted his head, looking away briefly, “special. That is to say, he needs to feel as if he is.”

 

“Special?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Dean grunted and shoveled the last of his fries into his mouth. “I’ve worked with weirder requests. I can deal with someone who is a little shy.”

 

“Take _a little_ and multiply that by the size of the universe.”

 

Dean just shrugged as a response. He was confident in his abilities to put anyone at ease and he doubted that Castiel would be as difficult as Balthazar was making him out to be.

 

Soon the rest of their food was gone, and the same waitress had left a blue tab on their table which Balthazar quickly snatched up. Dean just rolled his eyes. He knew that money wasn’t an issue with that family and Balthazar especially enjoyed his ability to pay for pretty much whatever. Not that Dean was complaining, it was his dime he was working on tonight.

 

“So are you wanting to do half of my fee now, half after?” but Balthazar just waved his hand, pulling out a checkbook as he did so.

 

“That won’t be necessary. I believe that you have the follow through.”

 

He wrote a check for the full amount and passed it over to Dean who took it with a rough, “thanks.” He liked Balthazar, but some of his mannerisms rubbed him the wrong way, probably a side effect of growing up rich. He just hoped that Castiel wasn’t as snooty.

 

They exited the restaurant, Dean taking Balthazar’s outstretched hand and shaking it.

 

“I’ll see you tonight then. Anytime after seven works. Most everyone should be there by seven-thirty.”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

They parted ways, Dean slowly walking back to his apartment. It was a distance, but he could use the time to clear his mind. Life had gotten pretty busy recently, he’s had a slight increase in clientele and his brother, Sam, has been up for a career defining promotion. Since they shared the small two bedroom flat, it meant that the air had oftentimes been thick with tension and nerves this past week. It was good to have some time to himself, to relax in preparation for tonight.

 

He lived on the second floor of the complex and took the steps up two at a time per usual. However, once he let himself in, he was surprised to find Sam already on their livingroom couch.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” he asked, setting his keys in a small bowl on the counter and peeling off his coat. “I mean, I know you get off early on Fridays, but not this early.”

 

Sam shrugged. It was very nonchalant, but Dean could read his brother better than himself and there was a glint behind his eyes that revealed he had something to say.

 

He tilted his head. “Good news or bad news, Sammy?”

 

Not even a second passed before his brother’s face erupted into a large grin, eyes crinkling at the corners and dimples peeking through. “I got the job! I got the transfer! I am now working as a part of the legal team at the IRS headquarters.”

 

“You’re a nerd,” Dean told him, eyebrows raised, but he was smiling nonetheless, pulling Sam into a large bear hug. He would always be proud of his little brother’s accomplishments.

 

They pulled away. “You sure you don’t want to come to this party tonight? Balthazar is a dick, dude, but the place sounds like it’s going to be rockin’. You could celebrate your promotion.”

 

Sam pulled a face. “I’m not celebrating a promotion at someone else’s birthday party. Especially someone I don’t know, whom my only connection to would be the fact that he’s about to bang my big brother.”

 

Dean shrugged. “Your loss.”

 

“I’m going into the office, well, my old office, tomorrow anyway to clear it out. I don’t want to have to do that through a hangover.”

 

“It’s as if you don’t know how to have fun, Sam.”

  
He let out a breathy chuckle. “Since when are parties my type of fun?”


	2. Day Tripper

Castiel was nervous. He didn’t like parties. He hadn’t wanted a party, especially not for his thirtieth birthday which was to come and go with no significant change to his life. He held the same job, lived in the same house and of course the thought of him holding down a romantic relationship was laughable, even to him.

 

But Balthazar had insisted and Castiel eventually caved, with the stipulation that it would be a small event only close friends and family would be invited to. He knew his brother wouldn’t abide by that rule, and sure enough by the time Castiel had found out the guest list was fifty people long, the invitations had already been sent out. He probably didn’t even know half the people who would be arriving, which was already sufficiently awkward considering it was his birthday and his party.

 

 _Deep breaths_ , he told himself. He would only have to stick it out for a couple hours. Then he could either escape to his room or kick everyone out, depending on which was easier.

 

There was a knock on the door which startled him. A quick glance at the clock told him it was too early for any patrons to be arriving, so it was probably Balthazar coming to make sure he hadn’t run away.

 

Sure enough, he was met with the wide grin of his oldest sibling, which he hardly had time to register before the mop of blonde hair shoved past him and into the main room of the house.

 

“Lovely, Cassie. The house looks impeccably clean, as if nobody even lives here.”

 

Castiel glared at him. “This is what it usually looks like.”

 

“I know, it’s absolutely terrifying,” he said as he clapped his brother on the back. “At lest you’ve set out some food,” he added, moving seamlessly towards a counter that was laden with chips and dip, cookies and a large bowl of punch.

 

Castiel just watched his brother’s ministrations as he floated about the apartment, commenting on (or rather criticizing) nearly everything Castiel had -- or hadn’t -- done. Finally, as if coming to the final touch, he rounded on him.

 

“I don’t suppose you have a music library that would be passable for this occasion.”

 

“Not passable by your standards,” Castiel retorted.

 

Balthazar just grinned at him. “It’s a good thing I came prepared then.”

 

He walked over to the rather large sound system nestled in a corner of the living room and began fiddling with the wires attached to it, plugging in his own device and eventually getting a low thrum of music to flow through the room.

 

“Lovely. I think we’re all set now.”

 

Castiel didn’t have a response to this, simply shifting towards the door when another knock rang out. He glanced at large wall-clock by the stairwell. Seven on the dot. It was probably a couple co-workers from his office, the few people he managed to get onto the invite list. They would be the type to show up directly on time, more so than anyone Balthazar was associated with.

 

He welcomed them, helped them with their jackets and motioned towards the snacks where Balthazar was already waiting to ambush them with whatever inappropriate conversation he had lined up, but before he could sufficiently warn them of his relative, there was another rap on the door that he had to attend to.

 

During the next half hour, various people filtered through, some looking vaguely familiar to him, some complete strangers. He had given up answering the door, throwing propriety to the wind, when he had opened it on a group of women who looked just out of high school, that he was one-hundred percent sure he had never laid eyes on before. He wasn’t even positive they were officially invited, now wondering whether information of this event had somehow leaked to the greater public.

 

More time passed and the furniture in his livingroom had been pushed to the side to create a makeshift dance floor and there was line five people long for the bathroom the last time he checked. This was quickly resembling a frat party more than a birthday celebration for a middle-aged business man.

 

He sighed and tucked himself into a corner of the kitchen, clutching a red solo cup (how cliche) to his chest. Even if he had wanted to socialize or meet new people, this definitely was not his crowd. Curse Balthazar and his idiotic plans.

 

He took a sip of the sticky-sweet red punch, nearly startling at the pair of bright green eyes meeting his over the lip of his cup.

 

“Am I correct in assuming you’re the birthday boy?”

 

Castiel’s eyes narrowed and he stated a chaste, “yes.”

 

The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Dean, friend of Balthazar’s,” he added with a salacious wink.

 

“Castiel,” he replied with a quick shake. Of course this man, who obviously did not know him despite being at his birthday party, was a friend of Balthazar’s. He couldn’t help but feel vaguely annoyed.

 

“I have to admit, I thought Balthazar was exaggerating when he said how good you looked, but now I don’t think he talked you up quite enough.”

 

Castiel could feel his cheeks turning pink. Nobody had ever been quite so forward with him, although it shouldn’t take him by surprise that his brother had been trying to set him up. He was constantly talking about how Castiel needed to get out there more and meet new people, but nobody he had ever met, even introduced to through Balthazar himself, had stuck around. They were usually deterred within the first five minutes of conversation.

 

He knew he was awkward and socially clumsy. For the most part he had reserved himself to single live, safe in his hovel of introversion, but it was admittedly lonely occasionally. It wasn’t that he never desired anyone, but more that he had learned to not get his hopes up.

 

“Thank you,” was the only response he could think to give.

 

Dean was handsome and definitely charming, but Castiel was still expecting him to make his excuses and back out of this conversation. But, much to his surprise, he persisted.

 

“So what does something as pretty as you do in life? Don’t tell me you’re a model.”

 

Castiel was definitely blushing now, but he met Dean’s eyes head on and stated plainly, “I work for the IRS,” because if there was one thing that made people turn tail from him as quickly as possible, it was hearing that his career involved flagging possible infractions on corporate tax return files. Somehow he didn’t think that Dean was the type of person to stomach that conversation.

 

But he was wrong once more. Dean’s eyes widened a fraction of a breath before he was grinning and shaking his head, muttering, “nerds. I’m surrounded by nerds.”

 

He looked back up at Castiel, smile still in place. “My brother works for the IRS. Just got some promotion today, he was all excited ‘bout it. Just spare me the gory details of your day to day happenings.”

 

Castiel chuckled, realizing that was the first time he had smiled tonight. Maybe his birthday really would be a turning point. Maybe Dean was that someone he had only ever daydreamed of meeting, here and real in front of him. He blushed again at the thought, cheesy and romantic, biting his lip and looking down.

 

“I can think of much better things for that mouth to be doing than worrying that lip,” and Castiel doesn’t know when Dean had shifted that close, but he could feel the hot puff of air on his ear when he whispered, voice deep, heavy with arousal.

 

Castiel’s breath hitched, mouth parted as he released the swollen lip, a line of wet across the puckered skin which was quickly covered with Dean’s kiss, chaste, but he could still feel it linger as this man, five minutes ago a stranger, pulled away.

 

Dean leaned forward again, body pressed against Castiel’s, practically obscuring him as he whispered once more, “I was wondering if you might have a place more… private that we could escape to.”

 

He couldn’t speak, only nodded as he forced himself from the wall, and incidentally closer to Dean, in order to lead him around the doorway and up a set of narrow stairs. Before completely pulling away, in a move that was so very out of character for himself, Castiel reached a hand to the back of his head, pulling Dean down into another indescribably hot kiss, slowly releasing and motioning him to follow.

 

Castiel’s heart was beating with such vigor, he halfway expected it to fly from his chest. His breaths were coming in short puffs. Dean wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing against his back so that he could feel the curve of his hard length against him, lavishing another open kiss to the crook of his neck once they were out of sight. Castiel moaned something that sounded straight out of porn as he continued to make his way towards the bedroom, fighting against the fog of arousal that made him want to take Dean here, now.

 

The click of the door handle brought him back to reality, finally stepping over the threshold into his bedroom. Like every other room in his house, it was sparsely decorated save for a floor-length mirror on the far wall and an intricate wood dresser next to it. However, what his room looked like was the last thing on Dean’s mind as they tumbled into the bed.

 

Hot. Everything about Dean was hot, his body flushed and Castiel could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, letting out another wanton moan as Dean grinded against his pliant form, arching up to meet each thrust.

 

His head was spinning, dazed and distracted by his partner’s wandering hands, rucking up the hem of his shirt and skimming over the taut lines of his stomach. Was he really about to do this? Thirty years of buildup to lose his virginity at a party he didn’t want with a man he had just met?

 

It wasn’t like he had been saving it for the perfect someone, he just never had anyone who wanted to take a relationship with him near that realm. This was the first opportunity he had and in that moment Castiel decided he was going to make the most of it, crashing their lips together again, sliding his tongue out and meeting the warm concave of Dean’s mouth, sharing a moan between their breaths.

 

Dean’s hands finally pushed his t-shirt off, quickly leaning back to discard his own as well, beginning to trail more kisses, wet and heavy across his chest, a quick peck of suction at each nipple and a wide tongue that licks its way down to his navel. Dean bites at the button on his pants.

 

“Are you usually pitching or catching?” he asks, popping Castiel’s jeans open and sliding them off of his thighs along with his boxers, leaving him completely bare.

 

“Uh, nph!” he cut off as Dean had taken his balls into his mouth, the rough, wet slide tongue over the sensitive skin. “Bottom,” he managed to choke out as Dean sucked hard, practically gargling his sac. He made his decision mostly because Dean looked like the type who prefered to top, and he didn’t want anything to jeopardize this night.

 

Dean released his balls, a hand coming up to gently massage them as he licked a trail like fire up Castiel’s cock, lips enclosing themselves around the spongy head and he didn’t know how he managed to not come at that _incredible_ feeling, a hand winding through the short strands of sandy brown, gripping onto Deans head tightly, thrusting up ever so much.

 

“It’s not, ah, usual, though,” he continued to stutter out, trying to focus on words through the pleasure he was receiving. The least he could do was be honest with the guy deflowering him. “I don’t- I mean, I haven’t…”

 

Dean pulled off with an obscene _pop_ , eyes trained on Castiel’s. “You mean this is your first time? Anything?”

 

He nodded back at the gorgeous man whose face was still nestled beside his dripping cock. Dean let out a low whistle. “Balthazar neglected to tell me that.” he placed a light kiss on Castiel’s tip, dick jerking in response.

 

“As long as you’re okay with it, though.”

 

And as Castiel nodded again, croaking out a low, “ _please_ ,” Dean swallowed him down, holding him against the back of his throat for a couple second’s pause before bobbing up a few times and pulling off completely.

 

“Let’s get you prepped then, beautiful,” he whispered, crawling back up Castiel and kissing him, slow and deep.

 

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a bottle of lube and cracking the cap. Castiel vaguely registered that Dean had apparently come to the party with the idea of having sex, but shrugged it off, instead deciding to be thankful of his foresight considering he didn’t have anything on hand that would work and god knows he wouldn’t have asked Balthazar for anything like that.

 

Castiel gasped as a finger was pressed to his hole, slow circular motions massaging its way in.

 

“Relax, babe,” was muttered against his lips and Castiel had no issue complying as he allowed Dean to lightly thrust up to his knuckle, capturing his mouth in another agonizingly erotic kiss.

 

They stayed like that, making out, as Dean worked in more fingers, raking against his prostate with every brush past, Castiel squirming beneath him making filthy sounds as he begged for more, Dean chuckling lightly when he thought him sufficiently prepared.

 

He pulled away, stepping off the bed in order to unfasten his jeans, hooking his finger around the loops and tugging them down, letting his underwear follow. Castiel just watched him, eyes raking over that delicious form, such a gorgeous, gorgeous body, hardly noticing the crinkle of a condom wrapper being discarded to the floor.

 

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone so seductively roll a thin layer of rubber over their cock, but fuck if watching Dean didn’t make him ache for fullness that much more. He spread his legs, dipping his own fingers into himself for a brief moment.

 

Dean grins at the display, quickly descending on Castiel, thrusting forward so that he’s fully sheathed and pausing to let him adjust to the large intrusion.

 

Castiel gives a deep moan, so loud he’s surprised no one was rushing to check on them, quickly pulling Dean closer with a whisper of “ _more_ , _please_ ,” grinding his hips back against his partner and locking his hands behind his neck.

 

Dean pulls back and sinks in, setting a slower pace, careful and passionate, attaching his mouth and _those lips_ against his collar, sucking small bruises into his skin, a featherlight kiss on top of each one.

 

He rakes against his prostate again and again and Castiel huffs out a mantra of, “Dean, _Dean_ ,” as they slowly work each other to their climaxes, a hand working it’s way between them to stroke Castiel, coming a moment before Dean, the wet warmth of his hole clenching, setting him off.

 

Dean relaxed against Castiel, both of them panting, Castiel trying to hide the wide grin from his face. That had been awesome, and although he was definitely looking forward to next time, he couldn’t wait to just talk with Dean, perhaps go on a real date and discover everything he could about the man who looked unconditionally past his initial flaws.

 

“Dean, you’re crushing me,” he states, as the prolonged weight of the man’s body continued to smother him.

 

“Oh right, sorry.”

 

He rolled off of Castiel, getting to his feet and pulling off the condom, knotting the base before tossing it in the trash and rooting around for his discarded clothing. He pulled on his t-shirt and went to fetch his boxers which were, luckily, next to the pants he had worn. Picking them both up, he began to detangle the legs.

 

“You can stay, if you want,” Castiel said, looking down quickly and unconsciously biting his lip before facing Dean again, who smirked.

 

“Sorry, but staying the whole night costs extra. Big bro didn’t include that in the present.”

 

Castiel’s stomach plummeted, chest seeming to constrict tight against his ribs. “Right, uh,” his voice wavered, trying to process the new information. _No_ , he thought, _this had to be a trick of some sort_.

 

“Not that you don’t make it tempting,” Dean added with a wink, “but if I spent the night with every client who requested, well, I’d hardly ever sleep in my own bed.”

 

Sleeping and clients and beds... Castiel’s mind felt like it was thrust into overdrive and it was only his extreme sense of self preservation that prevented him from breaking down in the moment.

 

“You must, uh, I mean, do you,” he exhaled, “do you take on a lot of clients in your line of, ah, business?” he couldn’t bring himself to say it, something inside him still hoping that he was misunderstanding, reading something wrong into the situation.

 

But Dean just cocked an eyebrow at him. “Prostitution? You can say the word, it’s not taboo or anything,” he grinned, “I’m obviously not ashamed of it, but yeah, I have a fair amount.”

 

Castiel balked, letting out a soft “mmm,” hoping that would be enough of a response. He had just slept with a hooker that, apparently, Balthazar had purchased. He thought that maybe Dean had… but no, he was an idiot. Nobody had ever _actually_ wanted him before. He didn’t know why he thought that this was anything different. He should have expected it, really.

 

Dean had finished getting dressed. He walked over to Castiel who was still naked, lying on the bed. He didn’t feel sexy anymore, just exposed. Dean leaned down to press a final open-mouthed kiss against his own lips before pulling away, but it wasn’t hot or passionate, it felt cold and distant and Castiel was slightly disgusted.

 

Dean was still smiling though, apparently Castiel’s inner turmoil wasn’t bubbling to the surface. “I hope your birthday present was satisfying. It sounded like it, at least.”

 

He winked and left, and Castiel was alone. He curled up under the covers, not bothering to dress himself or get ready for bed. He could still hear the bass thump on the level below him, but couldn’t begin to imagine joining the party now.

 

He was so stupid. There was a reason he had been a virgin until now, a reason that the only person he ever “dated” was some girl in sixth grade who’s friends asked him out for her and who he never saw after that. He just wasn’t the type of person people wanted. Not unless there was money involved he supposed.

 

He closed his eyes and willed the dull ache behind him to go away, he just wanted to forget tonight, forget the sensuality and comfort that came with having someone close, forget the pleasure that had sparked through his body and coursed through his veins because remembering was only making it worse.

  
He never wanted to feel like this, broken and abandoned, and in that moment he swore to himself that he would never be tricked or deluded into someone else’s bed again.


	3. Yesterday

Castiel groaned as he woke up to the harsh sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window. He hadn’t remembered to shut the curtains last night, and buried his face in the soft, down pillow as the memories from his birthday flooded back to him. He didn’t particularly want to move, but figured there must be a terrible mess downstairs for him to clean and he didn’t want to put it off until late in the day.

 

He untangled himself from the duvet and pushed it to the side, standing up and walking towards the large oak dresser that contained his clothes. He pulled on clean sweats and a loose tee, still smelling vaguely of the lavender detergent he washed them in, before quickly gathering the strewn remnants of last night’s outfit, and depositing them in the hamper without much thought.

 

Every movement he made felt heavy, groggy with a sense of unease he couldn’t shake. The more he thought about last night the more his insides churned with humiliation. What type of person was so repulsive, someone had to be paid to lie with him?

 

He ran his hand over his face and through his hair, taking a deep breath. _This was nothing new_ , he tried to remind himself. This was the reality that plagued his life from the moment he could remember taking a romantic interest in anyone. He knew he wasn’t what people were looking for, he knew he wasn’t relationship material. Last night had been a harsh reminder, and he willed himself to move on, steel his heart against the crippling vulnerability he felt.

 

So he forced himself from his room and down the stairs, hoping that the busy work from cleaning would be a sufficient distraction from his thoughts.

 

His eyes opened in surprise. The living room was clean, furniture put back into place. He heard a rustling in the kitchen and thought for a brief second that maybe Dean had changed his mind, had-

 

But Balthazar’s face popped around the corner, hearing Castiel enter and Castiel internally scolded himself for entertaining the possibility that the man had maybe thought he was worth more than a pity fuck and crashed downstairs to meet him in the morning.

 

“Balthazar,” he stated, finding it surprisingly easy to keep any hint of emotion from his voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you willingly clean before.”

 

His brother flashed him a smile and walked over, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “I thought it would only be polite. I figured you might want to sleep in given the exciting time you must have had yesterday.” He nudged Castiel with his hip and walked towards the trash, depositing what seemed to be the last of the used, plastic cups and picking up two mugs which  had been resting on the counter.

 

“Exciting is one word for it,” Castiel mumbled, taking a seat on his couch and attempting to make his form as small as possible.

 

He didn’t know whether Balthazar had heard him or not, but it didn’t seem to matter. He was already pressing a mug of warm coffee into his hands, and sitting across from him in one of the large armchairs that Castiel owned.

 

“So, tell me all about last night,” excitement evident in his voice.

 

Castiel just sighed and took a sip of the hot beverage, shutting his eyes for the briefest moment. “Why did you hire Dean, Balthazar?”

 

“Because,” he responded with an eye roll, “I’m not going to use the word pathetic, but I thought that at this age you deserved to know the pleasures of, well, pleasure. Besides,” he waved his hand and took a drink from his own cup, “maybe this will motivate you to put yourself out there a bit more. Find someone you’re carnally compatible with.”

 

Castiel exhaled sharply. “I think this has possibly had the opposite effect.”

 

He snorted. “I don’t see how it could, you aren’t exactly social as it is now.”

 

“Balthazar!” he snapped, glaring at his brother. “What you did was cruel, and I don’t appreciate it.”

 

“Cruel? Is that really the word you want? Dean is a good screw isn’t he?”

 

The color must have drained from his face as he opened his mouth, words coming slowly to him. “Please, Balthazar, tell me you haven’t also-”

 

His eyebrows shot up, lips twitching in an upward motion. “Goodness Cassie, no. I don’t like men in that fashion and anyway, I am able to seduce my partners without the use of cash.”

 

Castiel’s face flushed red, somewhere between anger and embarrassment. He hadn’t asked for this and was offended at Balthazar's condescending tone.

 

“You should have told me he was a prostitute, Balthazar, I wouldn’t have-” he cut off in a choke, unsure of what he was about to say. Wouldn’t have fallen for the act? Believed that someone could be interested? It all sounded so, well, pathetic, even to him.

 

“I know you wouldn’t have slept with him otherwise, darling, that’s _why_ I kept it a secret,” Balthazar finished for him, ignorant to Castiel’s real reasoning.

 

He was about to protest, to try and tell is brother that’s not what he meant, but suddenly questioned what the point of this conversation was, anyway. Revealing that he had foolishly deluded himself would only make Balthazar pity him more and he didn’t think he could face that. No, it would be better to keep his cool now and attempt to dissuade any more attempts at pairing him up. At least he didn’t have to worry about being tricked again considering he had sworn off sex and relationships for the indefinite future.

 

“I’m going out tonight, to a little bar downtown,” Balthazar said with a clap of his hands. “Going to see if I can’t pick some fun up for myself.” He raised his eyebrows at Castiel. “I assume you’ll want to join me, dearest brother? Perhaps replicate the events of last night?”

 

“No thank you,” Castiel all but snapped, setting his coffee down on the table and standing up. “Just because I have had sex does not mean I feel the need to partake in it all the time. In fact, I find myself adverse to the idea. I appreciate you effort, brother, but I do not want any further involvement in that area of my life.”

 

He stormed out of the room, unsure as to where he was going exactly. Balthazar followed behind him, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

 

“Alright, you have made yourself quite clear. I will no longer medel with your love life, unless you ask,” he added with a tip of his head. “Honestly, Cassie, I just think you would be so much happier if you got out more.”

 

He rolled his eyes. Balthazar has been telling him that since he was in high school. He just didn’t seem to understand that Castiel didn’t enjoy socializing and making new friends. He felt awkward and foolish in those situations. Last night hadn’t remedied that, if anything it made that sinking anxiety worse.

 

“You’ll be thanking me one day,” Balthazar tsked, before turning around and striding towards the front door.

 

“I doubt that,” he gruffed, seeing his brother out.

 

Balthazar undid the latch, twisting the handle and stepping out into the bright morning sun. He turned around to face Castiel a last time, giving him a mock salute.

 

“Cassie, I hope your weekend turns out to be as lovely as your party. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

 

Castiel simply nodded and watched Balthazar stride over to his car and drive off. He shut the door, resisting the urge to collapse in the foyer where he was standing. Sometimes interacting with his family seemed to drain whatever little energy he had and it wasn’t like he had awoken in a particularly jovial mood today.

 

Instead, he walked back to the living room and decided to finish his coffee before showering and dressing for the day. He might not be able to change the events that happened, he might not be able to forget them either, but he could make himself so busy that he simply didn’t have time to for his brain to dwell on those memories.

 

 


	4. Don't Bother Me

Castiel kept himself busy that weekend, cleaning and filing, organizing everything under the sun that he had been putting off. He even got an early start to his own taxes and overall felt quite accomplished by the time Monday rolled around.

 

The only time he couldn’t escape was night, when he would lie in bed with nothing but his own thoughts for company. It wasn’t that he was hung up on Dean particularly. He didn’t even really know the man. It was his own foolishness that kept replaying in his mind over and over, and a little voice that was telling him he wasn’t genuinely worth anyone’s time.

 

He ignored it as best he could and would eventually fall into a dreamless sleep. Boring, but practical, just like him.

 

Going into work was no different. He threw himself completely into the reports and documents, not even realizing that he had skipped over his break until his boss told him to take an extra ten for lunch as he was walking out the door.

 

He didn’t want to though and instead took his order from the deli around the corner to-go and brought his food back to his desk, careful not to spill crumbs everywhere as he mindlessly ate, eyes scanning over paragraphs and paragraphs of words.

 

“Castiel.”

 

He looked up from the bright computer screen to find Crowley’s form leaning on the side of his desk.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Could you run this down to Legal for me? It’s the Phinney Inc. file they requested and I’m finished tagging the problems, but I have a meeting in five.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Castiel accepted the thin manilla folder, briefly flipping through the pages before closing it and giving Crowley a quick smile. “I’ll head there now.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Crowley left and Castiel stood up, walking towards the elevator and pressing the down button to call it. He waited patiently.

 

Castiel’s division was in charge of flagging business filings with large enough infractions to warrant the Legal department’s involvement. Because of this, there was a fair amount of interaction between the two levels. However, since the digitalization of tax forms had become the norm, physically exchanging folders wasn’t as common anymore, which was nice considering they no longer had to waste time visiting each other’s offices.

 

Apparently though, Phinney Inc. still mailed in their returns the traditional way and either Crowley was too lazy to enter the information into the computer system, or some crackpot lawyer wanted the original sheets. Or both, Castiel reasoned. It could definitely be both.

 

The elevator arrived and he got in, pressing the button for basement one, thankful that his floor wasn’t underground. Although the lawyers got nice, wood paneled offices instead of the bland, grey cubicles he worked in, they didn’t have long floor to ceiling windows that let the sun shine in bright throughout the day.

 

When he arrived on their level and stepped off the lift, he approached the first office door and knocked, surprised when a tall man opened it instead of calling him in.

 

“Uh,” Castiel stuttered out awkwardly, momentarily struck speechless as he looked up. Was this guy seriously a lawyer? With long hair and brilliantly captivating eyes, he looked like something out of a romance novel.

 

He blinked a couple times before composing himself. “The Phinney Inc. file you requested,” he stated, holding out the folder in front of him.

 

“Oh, right!” the man exclaimed, taking the folder and opening the door a little wider, “thanks, uh, come in. You can have a seat while I just look over it real quick?”

 

Castiel nodded, trailing behind him as he walked into the small room.

 

“I’m Sam, by the way,” he said suddenly, turning around and sticking his hand out towards Castiel, who took it and shook mostly on autopilot.

 

“Castiel.”

 

“Casti-?”

 

“-el, Castiel.”

 

“Castiel, got it,” the man, _Sam_ , he reminded himself, said.

 

Castiel watched him walk around to the other side of the desk and sit down, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he was apologizing, “it’s my first day and,” he waved a hand around, “learning everyones names and, I’m not good with them anyway so…”

 

Castiel just looked at him, unsure as to what to say.

 

“Sorry,” he said again, “I’m rambling, I’ll try to remember, just don’t blame me if it takes a while.”

 

Sam huffed out a laugh and flashed him a smile, and holy shit, Castiel doesn’t know if he’s seen anyone more beautiful before. The man had dimples even. He was immediately captivated, his pulse thrumming beneath his skin.

 

In front of him, Sam flipped open the file and began paging through the dozen or so sheets, before making a small hum and looking back up to Castiel.

 

“Yeah, Phinney Inc. They just faxed in a new form with the needed corrections this morning, uh. Here,” he turned to his computer to quickly type something out. It pinged back at him and he smiled. “Meg is on her way here to drop it off for you, and then you can take it back up to your office,” he grinned sheepishly. “Sorry for making you take the trip down.”

 

Castiel shrugged. It wasn’t anything to apologize for.

 

There was barely a moment's pause before Sam was talking again.

 

“So, how long have you worked here?”

 

“Seven years. It was my first job out of college.”

 

“Same here,” Sam chuckled. “Well, not in this office, obviously, it’s my first day, but I was working for the IRS department in a city about a half hour’s drive from my place. Anyway, they were my first job too, straight out of law school.” He shook his head. “My friends thought I was crazy taking a government position instead of hiring into the private sector, but,” he shrugged, “I just, I don’t know, I like it here, which sounds totally crazy and,” rolling his eyes, “how boring, but what can ya do?”

 

Castiel shrugged again. He didn’t know what response Sam was angling for, and was frankly overwhelmed with his openness.

 

“Luckily, everyone at this new office seems just as friendly as my coworkers at the old one. Although, I have to admit, this is my first time talking with anyone face to face outside of my department.” He cocks his head towards Castiel. “You definitely don’t disappoint, though.”

 

Castiel was once again rendered speechless. It seemed like an odd statement considering he’d barely said ten words to the man, but luckily he was rescued by a light tap at the door, and a small woman sliding into the office.

 

“Here are the new forms for Phinney Inc.” she said, setting them onto the table.

 

“Thanks,” Sam said, grinning that ever stunning smile at her. He turned to Castiel. “Well, I guess you have what you need. It was good meeting you, Cas.”

 

He was about to correct Sam, saying that he was called Castiel and nicknames weren’t really his thing, but Meg had already side-tracked him into a conversation about another file they were having trouble with and he figured waiting until their conversation was finished for the sole purpose of telling Sam he had been wrong, was rude. So he quietly made his exit back up to his floor, dropping off the new papers on Crowley’s desk with a post-it that explained what happened.

 

He returned to his cubicle and sat on the soft, faux leather office chair that he has sprung for awhile ago, turning to his computer and trying to focus on work. His mind, however, was swimming with Sam’s gentle face and warm smile. And that voice… Castiel couldn’t shake it from his mind. He had seemed almost friendly, trying to engage him in conversation.

 

He shook his head.  Sam had said that everyone he met so far had been nice. He was probably expecting Castiel to be the same, to be normal, his abrupt dismissal indicating that he had, quite to the contrary, found Castiel to be just as nondescript as everyone else always does.

 

_Right_ , he reminded himself, _focus, you’re at work_. Turning back to his computer screen, he was able to read about five more pages before a light tap on the side of his cubicle caused him to look up. Nobody ever knocked, it wasn’t an office.

 

Certainly the last person he was expecting to be there was Sam, but there he was, standing next to his desk absolutely dwarfing the grey walls around him. Castiel just looked expectantly up at him. Perhaps he had to drop off more papers and didn’t know who Crowley was, or couldn’t find him, considering he was in a meeting currently.

 

“I, uh, was just about to go on my break,” Sam cocks his head, a smile playing at his lips. “I must have turned the wrong direction for the exit-”

 

“Yes, you need to go right after leaving the elevators,” Castiel informed him, not quite sure exactly how Sam had missed the tall doors that decorated the IRS’ entranceway.

 

Sam just seemed to smile even more. “Yeah, I’ll try to remember that.” He took a breath. “Anyway, Meg was telling me about a coffee shop near here? Apparently it’s just a couple blocks east and opened up last week or something. I was thinking about checking it out.”

 

Castiel raised his eyebrows at Sam, who just looked at him expectantly before adding, “I was wondering if you- I mean, I was just passing through the office, lost remember, and I saw you and was thinking, maybe, if you have the time and are free now, if you wanted to join me?”

 

Castiel’s eyes widened and he quickly looked away, gathering his thoughts. Was this a date? It _sounded_ like a date. But… he wasn’t date material, and anyway, people didn’t just spontaneously go on dates during their breaks from work.

 

He would think it was an extension of friendship, but nobody ever wanted to just _hang out_ with him. Crowley and him would catch the game together during Super Bowl season, and Balthazar would occasionally drag him to bars, but casually enjoying his company was not something people did.

 

And did he say Meg had told him about the coffee shop? Castiel knew Meg, knew her humor could be unintentionally cruel. She had seen him in Sam’s office earlier, probably told Sam all about the office introvert that everyone pitied. This had to be a joke from them, to see how long the new guy could string the pathetic Castiel along. They were probably already laughing about it behind his back.

 

“No, thank you,” Castiel clipped, resolutely not looking at Sam and missing how his face seemed to fall a fraction before looking back to him.

 

“Yeah, I understand. Work schedules can be crazy. Or are you just not a coffee person?”

 

He wished Sam would just go away. He turned to him, eyes meeting. “On the contrary, I am very fond of coffee as long as it’s black. I just can’t accompany you.”

 

He should have told Sam off, should have said that he didn’t appreciate being the laughing joke of the office, but he didn’t want to cause conflict and was honestly just weary of confrontation, surprised he was even able to refuse Sam’s offer without his voice wavering.

 

“Next time then,” he chipped and walked off, leaving Castiel’s brain even more scattered than it had been before.

 

He turned back to his work, but soon groaned in defeat, finding it impossible to concentrate. His mind kept wandering back to Sam, who had seemed so amazing and who Castiel so wanted to believe could be interested in him. His mind kept playing out crazy, deluded daydreams about how Sam’s attempt to woo him was genuine and not a construct of his imagination, or worse, the department’s entertainment.

 

He tried to shut down those fantasies though, worried that he would convince himself of their truity, and fall into the same trap he had this past weekend.

 

Pulling up another document, he tried once more to immerse himself in work, but eventually caught himself scrolling absentmindedly, realizing he hadn’t comprehended anything in the past fifteen minutes. He groaned.

 

“Long day?”

 

Castiel whipped his head around to find Sam, once more standing next to his desk, arm leaning on the top of the cubicle wall.

 

“Sorry for startling you,” he blushed, blinking at Castiel. “The barista at the place, she was really nice, but talked up a storm. Apparently they have this new Jamaican Blue coffee blend that they’re supposed to be pushing. Said their ‘grounds of the week’ are usually just to try and bump sales, but she was talking about how she actually really liked this one, and, well, I don’t drink anything but lattes, but I told her that I worked with someone who would appreciate a good coffee, so she kind of coerced me into buying this, but,” Sam stuck out his hand, and Castiel noticed for the first time that he was holding a paper cup, presumably containing whatever brew this Jamaican Blue was.

 

“For you,” Sam emphasized when Castiel made no attempt to take it.

 

He reached a hand out and grasped the beverage, pulling a long drink when Sam made no motion to leave, eyes still trained on Castiel.

 

He closed his eyes and uttered a soft, “mmm,” before he could stop himself. it tasted delicious, and he could feel the warmth spreading through him, helping to sooth his battered nerves.

 

“Good?” Sam asked, grin breaking out at the satisfied noise he made.

 

Castiel blushed. “Very,” he croaked out.

 

“I’m, uh, probably going to go again tomorrow, if you want to tag along. Same time?”

 

Castiel wanted more than anything to say yes, but had to remind himself that Sam’s kindness towards him was just a facade that he couldn’t let himself believe. So instead, he looked back up at him and said with the straightest face, “I can’t take my breaks at this time,” which was a lie, but one that Sam would likely believe.

 

He turned around in silent dismissal before Sam tried to reschedule, one more trying to focus on the wavering letters on his computer screen.

 

“It’s too bad,” Sam said before leaving, “I guess I’ll catch you some other time, Cas,” and walked away, smile still in place.

  
He opened his mouth to protest against the shortened name Sam had thought okay to use, but he was already long gone, back retreating through the maze of cubicles to the elevator. He sighed, burying his face in his arms. He was royally screwed.


	5. Eight Days A Week

Castiel’s mind couldn’t decide whether it was dissapointed or elated that he’d gone through two-thirds of his Tuesday without seeing Sam. Part of him was aching to hear his voice and watch as his cheeks would dimple in that smile he had frequently worn, but a larger part of him was still teaming with the constant anxiety he was harboring over the next joke to be played on him.

The day was almost finished and he had actually gotten a fair amount done despite his constantly wandering mind. Crowley had stopped by a couple times to complain about one thing or another, and he had sent a couple e-mails back and forth with Ruby, who was having trouble with one of the smaller corporations that he had flagged about a month ago.

Overall, he was feeling quite a bit more relaxed, even thinking of clocking out early since he had been putting in extra hours recently and he knew his boss wouldn’t mind. In fact, he was just about to shut down his computer, when he heard the distinctive, muffled rap of fingers against the side of his cubicle.

Before he turned around, he knew who it was. Nobody had ever announced their presence to him in such a way until yesterday, until Sam had come to see him. If only he had left five minutes earlier, he probably would have missed the lawyer completely.

“Hey Cas,” was muttered as he maneuvered to face Sam. “How are you?”

“Fine, and my-” _name is Castiel_ , is what he wanted to say, but instead cut off when he noticed the two coffee cups in Sam’s hands.

“Uh,” Sam started when he noticed where Castiel’s eyes had gone, “Meg and I went to that same coffee place, and their _grounds of the week_ is going on all week, since it’s a weekly thing,” Sam took a breath to compose himself. Now was not the time to be forgetting how to talk, “so I thought that, I mean you seemed to really enjoy it yesterday, so when I ordered my second drink to-go, I figured I would pick this up for you.”

Castiel looked at him for a moment before giving him a tentative smile and taking the cup with a quiet, “thank you.”

The coffee was just as warm and delicious as it had been yesterday and he figured, if nothing else, he was getting free drinks from this whole fiasco.

He looked back up at Sam who was once again smiling and was surprised to find that he didn’t want him to leave. Before he could stop himself, he found his mouth saying, “you’re welcome to stay, finish your latte here,” and was surprised at the fluttering sensation in his chest as Sam’s eyes seemed to light up.

“I can’t,” Sam looked down and sighed. “Trust me, I really, _really_ want to, but my break is almost up as it is, and I should probably get going.”

“I understand,” he clipped, cutting off any further apologies from Sam.

For Castiel, this just confirmed that Sam didn’t _really_ want to spend time with him, just the minimal amount to keep him interested. Well, he wasn’t going to fall for it, let it affect his emotions.

“I’ll stop by again tomorrow though, if that’s okay with you?”

Castiel nodded absentmindedly and vaguely registered Sam’s smile.

“Great! I’ll see you then, Cas. I really do gotta run though.”

He took off and Castiel didn’t even bother trying to correct him, knowing that Sam’s retreating form would be gone too quickly. He doubted that Sam would even show up tomorrow. Or maybe he was just hoping he wouldn’t.

But sure enough the next day, a rap on the side of the cubicle informed him that the egregiously tall lawyer had arrived, not surprisingly with two cups of coffee in hand.

He sat down in an empty chair that Castiel didn’t know existed, and for the next fifteen minutes, they chatted idly. Well, mostly Sam talked, Castiel just listening, adding the occasional comment. It was nice, he thought, spending time doing nothing but getting to know one another. It was relaxing in a way that other social situations weren’t.

Sam came back the next day too, and they repeated the process to the point where, when on Friday the clock flipped to 3:30, Castiel was expecting him, practically beaming as the man hunched himself into the small space and began talking about a new case he was working on.

There was a brief lull in the conversation before Sam cleared his throat. “So, the weekend is coming up.”

Castiel nodded at him and he couldn’t help but smile. Cas would do that sometimes, not give a verbal response unless necessary. It was almost as if he didn’t realize that Sam was trying to initiate something, get an answer from him. He found it irresistible.

“Do you have any plans?”

“No.”

Sam doesn’t think he could keep the smile off his face if he tried. “My brother is a huge fan of Star Wars and some channel has got a marathon going on Saturday. He’s made me swear to watch it with him, but I would definitely be happier if I had some company that’s not just him.”

Castiel pursed his lips and looked away. Sam recognized that contemplative face, it usually came before some sort of rejection -- he had gotten it quite frequently his first couple days here, but recently that frigid exterior seemed to be melting. He was ecstatic about their developing friendship, living for the moments where he could make Cas smile or laugh, so he spoke again before another no could be uttered from those lips.

“There will be nachos,” he tempted, “the works, everything you could want on them. And if Star Wars gets too lame, we can always sneak out and get ice cream or something.” He lightly pushed the base of Castiel’s chair with his foot. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on family.”

Sam shook his head. “You won’t be. I already cleared inviting you with my brother.”

Castiel blushed at that and he couldn’t help but smile at the reaction. It was moments like these that gave Sam hope that maybe, just maybe, Cas returned some sort of feelings for him past friendship.

“Okay,” was Cas’ answer, with a slight nod.

“Awesome!” he replied, internally wincing at his brother’s vernacular he apparently picked up.

His phone went off, indicating that his break was over and he needed to be getting back down to the legal department. “Damn it,” he muttered before turning back to Castiel. “I’ll e-mail you the address and stuff, and my phone number. You can just text me so that I’ll have yours, just in case. See ya tomorrow Cas!”

He was excited, he was happy, he was surprised there wasn’t a literal skip to his step as he made his way towards the elevators that would take him down to his floor, but he just couldn’t help it. From the first moment he saw Castiel, he was captivated and the recent breaks they had spent together had only increased his infatuation. Although he still couldn’t tell if Cas was even in the realm of interested in guys, let alone him, he was still glad that he seemed willing to befriend Sam.

“Hey!”

Sam turned at the voice calling him from down the hallway, surprised to see his boss, Ruby, quickly walking in his direction.

“I’m glad I caught you,” she said as she neared him. “You don’t have to worry about the repayment forms you e-mailed me earlier, I’ve passed them on to someone else. Lilith got into a car accident today and is in the hospital. She’s fine,” Ruby said, holding a hand up before Sam could inquire, “but she’s out for the foreseeable future which means she can’t testify in the Sucracorp case that’s going to trial on Tuesday. You’re going to replace her.”

Sam balked. “Wait, what? You mean testify?”

Ruby nodded.

“I can’t- I mean, shouldn’t someone more senior take this case?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not a green lawyer, Sam, you’ve had years of experience at another office. This case just needs someone from the IRS to confirm what information was submitted, no big deal.”

“Yeah, sure.” He took a moment to compose himself. “Do you want me to take the file now, or?”

“I’ll give it to you on Monday so that you can review and prepare. For now, you can head home early, just don’t get too comfortable with the short hours,” she smirked.

“I’ll try not to,” he chuckled, and watched as she walked off.

There wasn’t much point in going back down to his office now. He thought about heading over to see Cas again, but quickly dismissed the thought. He didn’t want to annoy the guy and they were at work. So instead, he stepped to the side and pulled out his phone, e-mailing his contact information out before heading through the large doors and catching the subway home.

He glanced at the time. Since he got out early, he maybe had a chance to catch Dean before he left for his client of the night. At least, Sam assumed he had one. Friday and Saturday were the two days he was almost guaranteed to be booked, no matter what.

When he arrived back at his apartment, he was met with the delicious smell of an early dinner being cooked.

“Please tell me that you made enough of whatever that is for me to have some,” he said, walking into the kitchen where Dean was.

His brother looked up. “I thought there were no more early Friday’s for you now that you’ve joined the big leagues.”

Sam took a seat on one of the kitchen stools. “Trust me, this is an anomaly. Some cases got switched around so I have the rest of today off, but I’m in court on Tuesday.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I thought going to court wasn’t really in your job description.”

“I’m not going as someone’s lawyer, I’m testifying on behalf of the IRS.”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t really know what that means, but I’m assuming it’s good, so congratulations.” He turned back to the food, removing a pan from the stovetop and turning off the heat.

Sam laughed. “I think it’s good, but thank you.”

Without consulting Sam, Dean dished up two platefuls of food, placing one in front of his brother, who dug in without a word. He was always appreciative of Dean’s cooking abilities, even if he didn’t outright thank him.

“So, is your boyfriend coming over tomorrow?” he asked as nonchalantly as possible, referring to the man Sam could not shut up about this whole week.

Sam nearly choked on his food, and Dean repressed a smile.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Jesus, I don’t even know if he’s attracted to guys.”

“Whatever. Is he coming over?”

Sam muttered, “yes,” and Dean didn’t miss the blush that had taken over his face.

Sam’s dated a couple people over the years, but the way he talks about this Cas guy, it makes him sound like the second coming. Dean couldn’t remember a time before where Sam actively pursued someone to this degree, and Dean was dying to meet whoever had captured his brother’s attention.

“I have good news. I’m double booked tomorrow evening, so I’m going to be heading out at around five. You’ll be able to have some privacy,” he winked.

“ _Dean_.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, putting his hands up at Sam’s warning, “but I really am taking off that early, so you’ll have to figure out what to do for dinner without me.”

“Who’s in the lineup?” Sam asked.

Sam’s the only person Dean ever talks about his work to. They don’t go into details -- hearing about your brother’s sex life isn’t fun for either of them, but he knows who all of Dean’s regulars are and enjoys the odd story about some of the really weird people he meets.

“Anna first and then Benny a couple hours after.”

Sam snorts. “Are you coming home at all tomorrow evening?”

“Why? You trying to get me out of the house so you can have some _alone_ time with-”

“No,” Sam interrupts, smirking, “I just know that sometimes, most times actually, Benny pays for you to stay the whole night.”

Dean shrugs. “What can I say? I’m _that_ good.”

“Right.” Sam rolls his eyes and collects the empty dishes, bringing them over to the sink and beginning to wash them. “When are you heading out tonight?”

Dean glances at a clock. “Now, after I get my stuff together. Are you gonna be up when I get back?”

“If you’re only going to be gone a couple hours, yeah.”

“I’ll see you later tonight then, Sammy.”

  
He gathers his jacket and an extra couple packets of condoms and heads out the door, leaving Sam to finish the dishes. Sam smiles, definitely looking forward to this weekend. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but who knows, maybe him and Cas will be able to use some _alone time_ as Dean so eloquently put it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be posting small updates throughout the week for this work at the SPN Kink Meme on Livejournal [here](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/83218.html?thread=30916370). They won't be posted on Ao3 until a full chapter has been completed. So, if you want to stay extra up to date I would suggest taking a look, but other than that you're not going to miss much just by staying on Ao3. Thank you for reading and reviewing!!


	6. I Should Have Known Better

Castiel is nervous, practically shaking. This past week Sam’s kindness had continued to seem nothing but genuine and Castiel couldn’t think of a good reason _not_ to accept his offer to hang out today, but now that he’s standing outside the apartment, he’s beginning to doubt his judgement.

He grips the twelve pack of beer he’s carrying tightly and takes a couple steadying breaths before raising his other hand and knocking at the door. The low echo of wood fills his ears, but he can’t make out any other sounds on the other side until the latch clicks, white wood swinging open to reveal the startlingly familiar face of Dean.

Confused, Castiel opens his mouth but closes it quickly when he finds himself at a loss for words. Dean raises his eyebrows for a moment and steals a look around him in the hallway before speaking.

“Look dude, I don’t know who gave you my personal address, but if you want to schedule another appointment, you need to call me. Also, right now is not the best time for you to be here-”

“Cas!”

The tall frame of Sam came into view as he squished himself into the narrow space beside Dean, smiling brightly, per usual. Castiel was still too stunned to say anything and the ringing, tense silence was only broken by Dean’s very loud snort.

“Cas? Cas, short for Castiel, of course,” he shook his head, mostly muttering to himself, “and you both work for the IRS. I should have known the minute Sam started talking ‘bout you. Well, come in,” he said, walking away from the door leaving it wide open.

“And Sam,” he continued as Castiel was ushered inside the apartment by the large man, “you definitely don’t need to worry about if he’s gay or not because he definitely plays for your team.” He winked. “This is Balthazar’s little bro from last week’s party.”

“Dean!” Sam scolded, face already beginning to turn red. He faced Castiel who still hadn’t said a word and rushed to take the box of beer from him.

“I’m sorry about my brother…” he muttered, fussing over his guest. “He can be, well, I guess you know. C’mon in,” he offered, trying to get Castiel situated in the apartment. This definitely wasn’t playing out how he envisioned it.

But Cas didn’t make a move to follow him, instead clearing his throat. “I don’t,” a breath, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sam,” he looked up into his eyes and was surprised to find a crease of worry in his brow. For a moment he wanted to assure Sam that everything was fine, but no. If there was ever an indicator that his offer of friendship wasn’t genuine, it would be this. Castiel was just surprised he allowed himself to be tricked this far.

“I don’t appreciate whatever joke this is. I think I should leave.”

He turned around and walked out, not bothering to shut the door behind him or respond to the broken, “Cas!” that was aimed at his retreating form. He just needed to get away from whatever situation that had been.

Sam stared at the empty hall for a second before slamming the door with more force than intended. He walked into the living room, running a frustrated hand through his hair. Dean looked at him and asked, “where’s your boyfriend?” when he realized that Castiel wasn’t following.

“I don’t know and he’s not my boyfriend” Sam managed to clip before turning fully to his brother. “You slept with him?!”

“Don’t take that tone, it’s my _job_.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, it’s just,” he pulled out a stool and sat on it burying his face in his hands, “why do you have to sleep with people I’m interested in?” he complained halfheartedly.

“Hey! It’s only happened twice, and besides, you’ve never let that bother you before,” Dean joked with a smile.

“I know, and it doesn’t really, but it looked like it mattered a lot to him.” He absentmindedly picked at a dish towel sitting on the counter before letting out a hollow chuckle. “He doesn’t seem like the type to hire a prostitute, you know?”

“A socially awkward thirty year old virgin is exactly the type to hire a prostitute.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “He was a virgin? I thought you didn’t really like,” he waved his hand, “dealing with that.”

“I don’t, but I didn’t exactly find out until partway through our activities.”

“Really, Dean? How does that not come up in conversation ahead of time?”

“We didn’t talk much beforehand. Balthazar set the whole thing up for him as a present. I was just supposed to get in, get out and not scare him off with talk of sex and prostitutes.”

“That’s weird.”

“I’ve had weirder.”

Sam snorted. “He did at least know you were being paid to sleep with him, right?”

“Of course, dude! I don’t deceive people for a living.”

“Alright, alright,” Sam said, putting his hands up, “I was just wondering. It didn’t sound like you had the best communication, that’s all.”

Another silence seemed to stretch on. Sam looked like he wanted to die on the spot, but Dean was musing over his previous interactions with Castiel and his brother, Balthazar. He thought about his instructions for the night: don’t talk about your job, treat him like he’s special.

Castiel hadn’t _seemed_ too distressed when he mentioned being paid after sex. He had been a little awkward, but most first time clients are, so Dean had dismissed the odd behavior, but if he hadn’t known, well, it would explain why Balthazar didn’t want him talking about it.

“Shit,” he mumbled out, mostly to himself.

Sam looked up at him with inquiring eyes, “what?”

Dean was already standing, food and Star Wars marathon forgotten about.  He briskly walked into the foyer and managed to gracelessly shrug on his jacket before Sam stopped him.

“Dude, what’s going on?”

“I don’t think he knew. I think Balthazar is a dick and set the whole thing up and now-” he kicks the base of their coat hanger in frustration. “I need to see him and explain. Apologize or something.”

“Dean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you might be one of the last people he wants to see right now.”

“What, and you would be better?” he bites out.

“No,” Sam sighs in frustration, “but I’m not about to barge down his door. You might just want to give him some time Dean.”

“No can do, Sammy. I’m not going to let you and him stew in whatever angst ridden misunderstanding this might be, and I have clients later tonight so this has to be dealt with now,” he reaches for the door, opening it and darting out. “Don’t try to follow me.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Just don’t fuck anything up too badly.”

“Whatever, bitch,” Dean shouts back, already halfway down the hallway.

 

Sam closes the door behind him and settles into the couch, pulling a bowl of chips near him, TV flashing mindlessly. “Jerk,” he mutters under his breath.

  
He changes the channel, not in the mood for Star Wars anymore. His stomach churned at the thought of what just happened and he soon was attempting to lose himself in the thoughtless drivel of the home shopping network to prevent his mind from lingering on the potential disaster of a conversation Dean might be having.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been such a long time and I honestly feel so bad about it! I finally forced myself to start writing this again, and I finally feel like I have my creativity flowing again. The next chapter is almost finished and will be posted tomorrow. I'm expecting to make some good headway into the rest of it this weekend. (Maybe I'll even finish it? No promises though.)
> 
> Thank you for all of your very sweet comments so far. :)


	7. We Can Work It Out

Castiel heads straight to his kitchen when he arrives home, opening the refrigerator and pulling out some leftover stir fry that he had made yesterday. He goes about reheating it, stomach growling, a reminder that he hadn’t eaten as planned at Sam’s apartment.

 

He sighs, waiting for the timer on the microwave to count down, eventually burying his head in his hands. How had he managed to get himself in this situation _again_?

 

He snorted to himself. It had been a rhetorical question, of course. People like him don’t get people like Sam. He had known this from the beginning and pursued the friendship anyway. He could have predicted this outcome.

 

In his defense, Sam had been persistent, but not in some overbearing, pushy way that would have caused Castiel to absolutely shut him out. He been kind and, well, seemingly genuine. He had completely charmed Castiel with nicknames and coffee, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get over Sam anytime soon.

 

The microwave dings, and he pulls the door open, retrieving his food and walking towards his livingroom, settling on the couch in the same position he had the morning after Dean, when he had been listening to Balthazar ramble.

 

He thought that if his life were a book, this would be some twisted literary symerity going on.

 

His food was mediocre, a bit too hot and the vegetables had gone limp, but at least it was something to distract him. He busied himself with nothing, staring out into space and duefully not thinking about how this was going to affect his office life. Damn. For as many previous social fuck ups he had under his belt, he hadn’t ever let any of them interfere with work. He supposed that this wouldn’t make _too_ much of a difference considering Sam was in a different department, but still…

 

He startled as a loud knock sounded at the door. He briefly thought about ignoring it -- he hadn’t been planning on being here anyway -- but the incessant pounding wouldn’t relent, and he ended up setting his food aside to pad over to the doorway.

 

He looked through the small peephole expecting- well, he didn’t know _who_ he was expecting, but it wasn’t Dean’s face, stony and determined, fist still smashing into the wood. Castiel was briefly concerned about the state of his door before deciding to open it.

 

Taking a deep breath, he slid the brass latch to the side and twisted the handle, pulling the heavy wood towards him, accidentally catching Dean off guard, fist still halfway raised as their eyes met. Castiel waited for him to make the first move.

 

“Can I, uh, can I come in?” he asks, voice gruff.

 

“I don’t think that would be wise.”

 

“C’mon man. I need to explain, I didn’t-” he broke off and ran a hand through his hair, a movement strikingly similar to Sam, and Castiel couldn’t help but be reminded once more of their relation.

 

Dean took a breath, pausing to collect his thoughts. “Not making assumptions, but when -- the night of your party, your birthday, uh-”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes as the man continued to ramble. At any other time Dean’s odd behavior might have thrown him off, but he was currently beyond any point of irritation he had felt before and figured he could perhaps save at least part of his ego by being angry enough to not take any more of anyone’s shit.

 

Still, Dean, who had always seemed more composed and relaxed than anyone had a right to be, was standing on his front porch babbling nonsensically. If Castiel wasn’t losing his patience, he might have appreciated the brief role reversal.

 

“Get inside. Please,” he added when he found out that, no, he still couldn’t be rude, “you’re making no sense.”

 

He stepped back to allow Dean to pass him, toeing off his shoes and invading Castiel’s livingroom, collapsing in one of the chairs.

 

“Do you want anything to drink?”

 

“No man, I’m good.”

 

Castiel took a seat on the far end of the sofa, putting as much distance between him and Dean as he reasonably could. When he didn’t make a move to begin talking again, Castiel cleared his throat and asked, “so, what were you saying?”

 

“When Balthazar bought my services for you as a present, he didn’t tell me that it was your first time.”

 

“I _do_ seem to recall you pointing that out during intercourse.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Dean masked a laugh at Castiel’s vocabulary, “it got me thinkin’ that Balthazar is a self righteous dick sometimes, no offense.”

 

“None taken.”

 

“And maybe he was as dishonest with you as he was with me, hell maybe even more so.”

 

Dean looked up at him expectantly, but Castiel averted his eyes, biting his lip. He wasn’t going to respond -- what would he even say to justify his poor judgement?

 

“You didn’t know Balthazar had paid me, did you?”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m sorry, honest. I run a clean business, I wouldn’t purposefully keep you in the dark. That’s a bitch move.”

 

“I know, Dean,” he responds, finally looking back up, “I could tell by your reaction afterward that you hadn’t intentionally deceived me.” There was another pause, but Dean didn’t look like he was about to speak again. “If that’s all, I’ll see you out.”

 

“No, look, I don’t know if it weirds you out, me being Sam’s brother, but he’s a good guy, and I wouldn't have to be around -- I’m gone most evenings anyway, and it’s not his fault we had sex. I really think you should still give him a chance despite what went on between us.”

 

Castiel gives a brief huff of humorless laughter. “I appreciate your apology, but the situation with Sam has nothing to do with you. I know he has no amorous intentions towards me. It is simply an office prank.”

 

“What?” Dean shifts in the chair, leaning closer towards Castiel. “No, I know my brother, that doesn’t sound like him.”

 

“It sounds like his coworkers,” Castiel supplies.

 

“Maybe,” Dean admits begrudgingly, “but you gotta know Sam, he’s got the biggest heart. Sure, he also has a mischievous streak, but it’s never been aimed at people’s emotional stability. If he were playing a prank, you’d be more likely to find you computer covered in saran wrap.

 

“Besides,” he continues, a smirk beginning to adorn his face, “you haven’t been at our apartment this whole week. I’m not lyin’ when I say that he hasn’t shut up about you.” Dean leans back and with exaggerated movements and a mocking tone, begins to imitate Sam.

 

“ _Oh man, Dean, you should see this guy, I don’t think I’ve met anyone so gorgeous, his eyes alone... He’s so shy, sometimes he blushes and it’s unbelievably cute. I don’t know though, I always ramble so much around him, he probably thinks I’m socially stunted. He’s kind of awkward too though, but he’s at least endearing about it…_

 

“And blah, blah,” Dean finishes, returning to his normal voice. “Trust me, he was not faking that.”

 

Castiel furrows his brow at the new information. His heart had leapt into his throat at the possibility of Sam really feeling that way, but his mind was still picking at every instance that indicated otherwise. He sits there, silently at war with himself, until Dean pipes up again.

 

“Dude, why is it so hard to believe that my brother could be in to you?”

 

Castiel shrugged. “Because I’m weird.”

 

Dean snorted. “We’re all weird.”

 

“People don’t,” Castiel sighs, frustrated, “they don’t get to know me. I’m too awkward and I scare everyone off before,” he gives a weak gesture, “I don’t know, before I’m comfortable enough to actually talk to them.”

 

Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “Uh, haven’t you been ‘getting to know each other’ this whole week? I mean, not to throw Sammy under the bus, but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard about all of your conversations verbatim. You definitely didn’t scare him off. In fact, I’m pretty sure he thinks that he scared you off… or he think’s _I_ scared you off, which I am totally not taking complete blame for.”

 

Castiel laughed at that and Dean took it as a positive sign. He smiled and stood up abruptly. “So does that mean this whole situation is sorted out on your end?”  
  


“I don’t know…”

 

“C’mon, I’ll give you a ride back to our place and drop you off so you can have your heart to heart with Sam. I have some time to kill, but I won’t hang around. I’m pretty sure I can find something to do in town while you and my brother have hot make-up sex.”

 

“Dean-” Castiel begins to protest, still not sure if he really wants to confront Sam now, but Dean just wraps an arm around his shoulders, practically lifting him from the sofa, and forcibly steers him towards his door, out onto the front porch, food all but forgotten about.

 

He can hear the click of the lock before Dean closes the door behind them. He’s pretty sure that his keys just got locked inside, but before he can say anything about it, he’s being pushed towards a shiny black car, parked precariously on the side of the road.

 

“Is that your car?” he asks, although the answer seems somewhat obvious.

 

Dean’s face lights up as he walks around to the driver’s side. “Yep! This is my baby, my pride and joy.”

 

They get inside the vehicle and Dean messes around with the heat for a moment before pulling out. He begins nonsensically rambling about the treasured Impala, and Castiel finds himself somewhat grateful that they don’t live too far away from each other as pulling into the parking lot sufficiently ends the conversation.

 

It’s not until he steps out that he feels the crushing anxiety return.

 

Dean doesn’t get out of the car, but he doesn’t drive off either. Castiel looks at him inquiringly, but he just smiles and waves up to the apartment. “I’ll just watch you, make sure you get in safe and everything.”

 

He shoots Dean a glare, knowing that he’s less worried for Castiel’s safety than he is about him running off. Looking at the stairs leading up to the second landing, he has a slightly nauseous feeling and the desire to bolt, so maybe Dean’s concerns weren’t too unfound.

  
But he makes his way up and over to the white-washed door for the second time that day, raising his fist and knocking steadily against the thick wood. He hears the Impala drive off, and waits a couple more minutes with bated breath, wondering if Sam was even going to answer. He knocks once more and pauses before turning to walk away, but the muffled sound of a sliding lock on the other side freezes him in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Yall and your reviews (both here and on LJ) are making me blush. Thank you for your support so far. I estimate the next chapter to be done Sunday, although I may not get around to posting it until Monday.


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